


Reacquainted.

by BubblegumCannibal



Series: With Honor and Magic [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Custom Warden, Gen, M/M, One Shot, Shayne Amell, Short One Shot, Warden-Commander Amell, What-If, i don't know things are happening and it's not consistent with anything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-27 06:28:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7607380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BubblegumCannibal/pseuds/BubblegumCannibal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With Justice becoming Vengeance, what happens to Anders when Hawke decides to not kill him? Where does he go? How does he hide?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reacquainted.

**Author's Note:**

> Ever just get a spurt of "i want to write something" but it's nothing of what you want to write? Ever get the want to write something but it has no beginning middle or end? Just a random spot? Yeah. Yes. I just had the want to write Amell/Anders and I don't know why.

_I’ll leave this…_

_**MURDERER**_

_For you to deal with. He’s your companion._

**_Do as you see fit._ **

The sound of those screams still echo in his head. Though the fires had died down and the daze had finally lifted from his mind, Anders could not see his day past. This was all his fault. Working alongside a woman he saw as a friend, sword in hand and standing firm with her ideals of protecting _him_ and the rest of Kirkwall, the mage felt undeserving of such kindness.

Three days ago, the apostate known as Anders was supposed to die. Three days ago, he had come to terms with being succumbed into the fire that he had washed over the Chantry and then some.

Yet, there he sat, awaiting his judgment in an open field; head down and away from the sunlight. A maleificar like him didn’t deserve to see such beauties of the world after what he’s done and no apology can cover the damage—the **_trauma_** he has unleashed upon all of Thedas.

If only he had listened all those years ago, this would have never happened. This was the striking blow Justice mentioned years prior when they met and this was the downfall that Amell prophesied— _“The end will come for you,”_ Anders could remember that crack in his rasp. The Commander was hurt when he learned of the connection those two held. Justice was a monster and he was doing his best to prove to himself that he could tame it.

_“—And you can’t…! And I can’t save you from what it does to you.”_

Yet Justice—nay _Vengence_ has made himself silent. Does he have no words for the saturnine sight that has been inflicted over Kirkwall? The Templars have been hit. The Chantry— _destroyed_ and **nothing?** Where was his preaching? Where was his story of triumph now that chaos reigned supreme in a Marcher city?

For years Anders avoided such destruction, fighting for justice in humane ways of escape and story telling. People needed to know what happened within Circles—the **_fear_** instilled within young mages on the one thought of believing that they wouldn’t rouse to see the next morning.

He can’t hear the chirping of the birds this morning, but heat of the sun burns at the back of his neck—or is he lost to a blissful dream to assist his mind to flee from being burned at the stake? No, the wind is too pungent with the smell of death to be false. Though, miles away from the city, he can still see the smoke settling as black clouds waiting to rain down the choking ash and smother away his sin.

She told him to stay there, Hawke did. Fingers, average and calloused, skimmed across the back of his neck before in a gesture of comfort and friendship. No matter how many times she began to adhere to her calling and _slay_ the abomination before, her, Anders never looked up to greet her gaze. If he were to die at her hands, at least he was to die by the hand of someone he cared for.

Yet she never swung her sword in his direction. She never allowed cold steel to sting his skin and draw his blood—Hawke loved him too much. At this point, he was family.

“Anders…?”

Teeth clenched at the sound of her voice, soft and exhausted. They had all been up for hours cleaning up his mess. And he’s so lost over it all. Why does she keep coming back? What lures Hawke back to his side with a comforting hum in her voice? He’s a murderer and Meredith called that out loud and clear nights prior.

She _saw_ Justice twist and turn in him and witnessed his destruction first hand—Vengeance was corrupted, a sprit seduced by his warped mentality of what he believed was **_justice._** She knew how uncontrollable the monster was, and decided against slitting his throat when she had the choice.

Alas, he still steeled his mind and awaited the worst.

“Anders?” She called again, “I have decided what I am going to do with you. You just… have to promise me you’ll behave.”

And he _scoffs._ Vengenace behaving? **_Please._** Silent as he may be right now, he is not one made to _behave._ However, Anders turns, still on his knees, to face Hawke. He looks drained, bags under his eyes sagging low with darkened circles to heighten his exhaustion, but his heart stops. Skips a beat. Stutters as his breath hitches.

Hawke was a gorgeous woman, a warrior no less. She was short with an athlete’s physique and muscular arms and gentle smile that complimented her dark skin perfectly. Although it was the man behind her that brought him to his feet. Uniform black with silver chain mail, he stood taller than her with a griffon gracing his chest plate. Anders stumbles to stand straight, hand covering his mouth with the sight of the equally dark skinned man taking her place.

“You know we talked about this, right?” His gravely voice sent a flutter to Anders’ chest, low and reverberating in his chest with a comforting rumble as he stepped closer, “I won’t let him continue to ruin you. Justice took you away from me once before and I refuse to allow him to continue.”

His hands alleviate the pain that throbbed in his soul with well needed peacefulness. With his own skinny, pallid fingers hooking themselves onto the Warden’s, Anders hums once he steps closer. After their fight about Justice, he thought he’d never see his lover again. Still, there he stood, lips pressed against the mage’s chin. And it’s odd. Hawke had given him an option to continue and repent and at Amell’s side, he could do that happily, even if there were moments of struggle to follow close behind.

“There is nothing here for you, Shay. Justice… _Vengeance_ made sure of that.”

“Says you? I trekked two days nonstop to _find_ **you,** ” Amell sighs, fixating that icy grey stare on his fellow mage, “You aren’t listening to me again—I. Came here. For you. Justice can fight me again all he likes, but you are all I care about and I _will_ help you eradicate him from your soul. He will life from you no longer.”

“What a hopeful man you are.”

There’s another kiss given, one firm and placed against chapped lips. Oh how it lingers, leaving a pleasant tingle to the taller man’s lips. He’s missed this. The both of them have.

“Come with me,” Amell requests, “We can’t fight a dormant sprit separated.”

_Please?_


End file.
